Page 82 of Cherry Picking
“At least they listen. My dad checked out ages ago. Too busy dating girls younger than me.”
Beneath the teasing tone is the little bit of hurt that’s always lying in wait when he talks about his dad.
“I’m sorry you guys aren’t close,” I say, pecking a trail of light kisses up his neck. “At least you’ve got Cam, right?”
He brushes his smile over my cheek and sighs. “Am I a shitty brother for abandoning her this year? Knowing that Dad’s going to give her hell?”
“Griffin. She’s twenty-one. I’m sure if she was that worried, she’d stay in Knox with her roommates.”
“I know. We just always say we’ll brave the old man together.”
We stand in silence, gentle fingers exploring each other, mouths ghosting available skin and breathing each other in. It’s a peaceful moment, but the tension cording Griffin’s shoulders is wound tight, so I slink my hands under his shirt and knead the muscle.
“Listen. One whole twenty-four hours, and you’ve already got Parker’s heart; you know that right? Pretty sure he wishes you were his big brother instead of me.”
Griffin smiles crookedly, flicking his tongue over his lips like he does when he has something to say but holds it back. I don’tquestion it, though, just lower my lips to his tantalizing mouth and bring his tongue out for some leisurely fun.
It’s not long before Griff is pulling away with a disappointed groan, his fingers finding my ass and squeezing it in his palms.
“Enough about other people. Tonight should be about us.”
I quirk my brow, and he rolls his eyes, a grin playing on his lips. “What about us, hm?”
He pushes our bodies close, chest to chest, junk to junk, hands trailing up my body on a slow glide until he reaches my neck and anchors down.
“Before you decided to pull a Casper the Disappearing Ghost on me,” he says with a pointed stare, “I’d been planning a gift of my own. Not sure if you deserve it, but it might make you think twice about leaving me again.”
The casual way he jokes about it dries my throat out and has my eyes stinging, but he has every right to deal with what happened in his own way.
“I could beg,” I say softly, nudging his nose with mine. “Could get on my knees and give you a real good apology with my mouth.”
Griff’s eyes widen as does his smile. “Oh yeah? You gonna take me nice and slow? Get me all wet and sloppy until I decide you’ve earned your gift?”
Instead of answering, I slide down carefully to my knees and press my face to the bulge in his sweats. Our eyes lock as I find the damp tip of his dick and flatten my tongue over the spot.
“I don’t want to come again until you’re inside me,” he says, urging me to close my lips around his clothed dick.
A few sucks to thoroughly soak his shorts is all it takes for him to back away and kick them and his boxers off, his thick, red cock standing proud between his legs.
“Also not ruining another pair of those.”
I chuckle and beckon him forward, gripping the backs of his thighs and taking him into my mouth.
He’s hot and solid, wet and begging for my tongue to caress the underside of his shaft.
Griffin cradles my head in his hands, pushing deeper, agonizingly slow until he fills my mouth just shy of my gag reflex.
Deep throating isn’t in the cards for me, but driving Griffin out of his mind is a skill set I’ve masterfully acquired.
He’s on the edge in minutes, pulling out and dragging his spit-slicked dick across my cheek while he catches his breath.
“Stay there and close your eyes,” he rasps, covering my eyes with his hand when I continue to stare.
I chuckle and do as he says, listening to him shuffle around the room, the air mattress groaning beneath his weight.
“Open, D-man.”
Holding back a round of laughter, I open my eyes to see one sexy as hell goalie taking up space at the foot of my makeshift bed exuding a level of confidence I’ve never achieved—all while wearing nothing but a thin strip of lilac material that only just holds his raging erection.
